


Through the looking glass

by swordsandpen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I have tons of fun writing this modern universe and the clash between characters though!!!, JB Week 2017, Parallel Universes, also kinda modern AU, but i guess i can still tag it this way???!!, it doesnt really fit with this years theme, kinda AU episode 7x04, one-shot turning into multichapter fic, science-fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordsandpen/pseuds/swordsandpen
Summary: Something weird must have happened to Jaime Lannister when he was pushed into the water by Bronn, avoiding the dangerous breathing fire dragon threatening him. He only realizes the change once he is back at Kingslanding, after he delivered the news of their defeat to Cersei with fear deep in his stomach. His sister stands as cold as an ice queen in front of him, eyes still and motionless when he tells her how they lost the war and how close he came of dying. Jaime's skin still boils from the dragon flames warmth and his mouth tastes of ashes and the smell of his men's flesh while they're being burnt alive in their armors.Jaime travels between parallels universes and realizes how different his life could be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting for a while to write this kind of fic. I couldn't figure out what would be the story and where in the GOT canon it would take place. I got tons of fun writing a lost Jaime and a different Brienne, coming up with this universe and blending some sci-fi into a medieval fantasy universe. Loved playing with mutiples parallels between situations and women, the symbolism of Jaime almost drowning in water (and going through the looking glass, somehow...)
> 
> Hope you'll like it too and that it isn't too ooc.
> 
> This was inspired by my other favorite OTP and two of my top three tv shows, excluding GOT (i could have added things about my first favorite show but as this one is about a plane crash on a weird island...well it's not really possible). You don't have to know anything about them though because the nods are subtle and probably only exist in my fangirl's mind. 
> 
> Please note that all mistakes are mine. I don't have a beta-reader and English isn't my first language (LOVE that thing i downloaded that fix my mistakes in English on Word. Pure magic.)
> 
> I might write more about these universes. Still don't know.

Something weird must have happened to Jaime Lannister when he was pushed into the water by Bronn, avoiding the dangerous breathing fire dragon threatening him. 

He only realizes the change once he is back at Kingslanding, after he delivered the news of their defeat to Cersei with fear deep in his stomach. His sister stands as cold as an ice queen in front of him, eyes still and motionless when he tells her how they lost the war and how close he came of dying. Jaime's skin still boils from the dragon flames warmth and his mouth tastes of ashes and the smell of his men's flesh while they're being burnt alive in their armors. 

Cersei never asks if he is alright when he is clearly not. His soul trembles from the horror he has seen, from the fear for the future that lies ahead of them. It broke him, filled him with a desperate fatigue that crushes him. 

Once they talked through the strategic side of their defeat, once he tried to convince Cersei they could not possibly win this war the same way they usually do, Jaime wants to tell her about it. He doesn't say a word.

His sister is the queen, whether he likes it or not. Their defeat leaves her with a weight on her shoulders - the weight of strategic decisions to make, the hundreds of men that died for her cause, the newfound gold that fell on her hands because of his actions. Cersei has more to think about than the consequences of this war for him. It's something that's expected from her, and he can't exactly blame her.

But she is supposed to love him as much as he loves her. 

But he is supposed to be her second half she is nothing without. 

Isn't it?

Jaime doesn't have the energy to fight Cersei for something that has no incidence on the future of the realm. That is what it is about. That are the things that truly matters right now: protection of the realm, of the people under Cersei's ruling and defeating the Targaryan girl threatening to steal the throne from them. The mad king's daughter. After, they could bring peace to the realm again. 

No, there were more urgent matters. He loves her; he is staying by her side, forming one team made of rock no one could push beside, not even the mad king's daughter. His love is enough for now, isn't it?

Jaime fells in his bed earlier than he usually does this first night since he almost died on the battlefield. Before he hides under the sheets, Cersei visits him. She doesn't knock; she never does. She walks into his chamber as if she owns the place, golden and beautiful. His sister practically jumps on him, pushing her mouth on his, warm and sex. Jaime can't resist her more than one minute, so he kisses her back. He needs the comfort, wants to believe he was wrong before. His second half is standing right beside him. 

Once the room gets quiet again, Cersei falls asleep beside him without saying one word to him, throwing him a tired satisfied smile. He should be happy. Things are back to normal; Cersei provides him with the comfort he thought he needed after the horrors he'd seen. She has a plan to defeat Danearys. As his heavy body finally sinks between the sheets, though, his mind doesn't stop wandering, leaving him wide awake despite his tiredness, and staring up. 

Pictures flash behind his eyes. A fire breathing dragon. A burning battlefield. Ashes spread, everywhere. The smell of burning flesh and dying men, his men he failed to protect. Cersei, the queen he swore to protect, to fight to and almost died for. Tyrion, the brother he tried to save from death, but that chose to betray him. His family that he is also supposed to protect.

He thought of the duties and oaths strangling him until he could barely breath. He thought of his quest for honor contradicting both his duties and oaths, swallowing him whole the same way water had today and making him violently fight back for a breath of air.

He wonders what it would be like to be free. Is freedom even a thing in this world where duties and oaths seem to chain up most people to the ground? 

Jaime is relieved when sleep claims him, finally.

*****  
Until a strange and short sound, unlike anything Jaime heard before, pulls him back to the real world - well, what he thinks is the real world at first.

He draws in a harsh breath as if he were back in the water again, almost drowning, but finally making it to the surface. Everything is white and bright around him. His eyes and head hurt but he notices enough to his surroundings to realize he is at an unknown place. Certainly not in his bed, at Kingslanding. His breath quickens, panic spreads in his body and he tries to sit in what seems to be a bed. Another bed, not his.

A flash of pain tears his chest apart, burning as much as dragon flames, and he groans deeply. He lets himself fall back on his bed, but strong and soft arms surround his body right in time to ease him back into a laying position. "Shhh, you're alright Jaime. You're alright. Don't move or you're going to hurt yourself even more," she whispers, reassuring. Once she is certain he is safely back, laying on his bed, she slowly draws her arms back, leaving only her fingers intertwined with his. 

His breath is shaking as pain barely recedes, throbbing in his chest still, but he tries to take in the room he is in again. Nothing around him looks like any castle from Westeross he would know of. The strange sound that had pulled him out of sleep seems to come from an unfamiliar machine with buttons and multiple wires coming out of every possible holes, connecting it to his body. He has no idea what it is for. Is someone experimenting on him? That creepy Qyburn guy? 

But his attention quickly turns back to the person sitting next to him, whose thumb is now circling his knuckles in a calming and tender gesture. She has dark rings under her eyes hinting the very few hours of sleep she had gotten lately, but the worry shining in her big blue eyes as she scrutinizes him is unmistakable, and her blond almost white short hair glowing under the moonlight makes it indubitable of who she is. "Brienne, you're here," he whispers back at her, bewildered of finding her here, at his side. Almost a question as much as a reaction to her presence. 

A glimpse of relief floods her eyes. "Of course i'm here you dumb idiot. Do you think i'd leave you to your fate after you jump in front of a bullet destined to me? You are a fool, Jaime Lannister."

He doesn't understand; his head aches - as his whole body it seems - and intense fatigue once again spreads through him, swallowing what is left of his energy. Jaime can't stop staring at her as her face changes, something soft and joyful replacing some of the worry that had laid here minutes ago. The moon's silver glow pouring from the window lights her face in as majestic way, making her look like a mystic woman from an old tale. 

His breath catches, startled by the way the moon seems to shines the very heart of her. He is hypnotized by her and completely in awe of how open she looks here, in a place she doesn't need to hide behind her masks of formality and oaths, of a tough and almost heartless fighter she forces herself to wear for protection against the men mocking her for being a knight. 

"Jaime?" she asks, lines of worry deepening on her forehead. "I don't understand, Brienne. What happened? Where are we?" he questions.

"You don't remember," she sighs. "The doctor said it could happen." She closes her eyes for a second, as if to collect the strength to relive the events that lead them here. "We were investigating a murder case involving a sniper. We were looking for a suspect, but our team got ambushed. You- our guy was obviously aiming for me, but you jumped in front of me and got shot instead. We're at the hospital. You're awake now, so hopefully things will get better." She squeezes his hand to prove her point. Her eyes never leaves his face, scanning very centimeter of skin as if he could disappear any minute. 

Jaime is about to tell Brienne that nothing she says is making sense when memories flood his mind; strange memories that doesn't belong to him, he is sure of this. Someone yells "Detective Lannister" behind him, an empty alley between an abandoned building and a warehouse, a bed, Brienne's voice speaking calmly to the man while holding a black and shiny object he knows by instinct is dangerous, a glitter from above, the pain burning in his body and darkness swallowing him, Brienne laughing beside him, a goblet of some dark beverage in her hands and a silver ring sparkling on her left hand. 

A mess of memories he doesn't understand; as the words she told him. What the hell was this? A dream? Could his mind even come up with such an improbable scenario? Pain throbs in his chest again, a reminder of the wound he has no memory of getting. No, he wouldn't feel pain as sharp in a dream, he realizes. 

Is the story Brienne told him even the truth? 

Jaime pushes away the last thought as soon as it enters his head, and pulls his eyes from hers, so blue and intense - too much- to focus on the ceiling. No matter where he is, in some strange place or a weird dream, Brienne will always stay Brienne. She is telling him the truth - or what she thinks is the truth - for certain. He has to trust her if not anything else. She is his anchor, his moral compass. 

What does he say, then? He makes up ten lies, snarky jokes and questions to confront her. Jaime ends up saying none of them. " I have ten thousand pieces of memories, but I can't make sense of them," he finally admits.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

This time, Jaime doesn't hold back. He would be a fool to pass an occasion to test the water and understand what is going on here. He needs to know more than the non-sense story she told him. What the fuck was this place? What was a sniper? A suspect? Who shot him how in the chest to cause a pain this fucking strong? He vaguely shrugs, trying to make it look a bit nonchalant. "Some dark alley. Kingslanding. A dragon breathing fire. Swordfighting against Dothrakis. Some panicked guy in the alley..."

Brienne glares at him and hits lightly his arm. "Jaime! Don't joke about this. I was worried about you for hours before I knew you would be ok."

Jaime smiles apologetically. "I'm only half-joking, if you'd notice.... _my lady_."

"Have you been reading old Westeros novels, again?" Brienne rolls her eyes at him and his smile grows. This world, he knows nothing about it. This, though? Annoying the hell out of Brienne while trying to gather information? He was an expert.

"I don't really read," he teases.

"Oh believe me, I know you Jaime Lannister. When you read those history novels about knights and ladies, you don't just read them, you want to relive them." Her big blue eyes shines with teasing and relief, painted in silver by the moonlight. She looks calm and beautiful and, for one second, he wonders how the lips of this other Brienne would taste, how different she is from the Brienne he knows in the ways she acts and talks. He quickly pushes the thoughts away, careful not to engage in this slippery territory. 

"Yet, I recalled you loved that Valeryan sword I gave you a few years ago. You shouldn't accuse me of loving swords, knights, dragons and what you call history when you're just the same." 

"Yes, and Oathkeeper fits well on the wall of our place. I'm not the one pretending to remember fighting beasts that stopped existing thousands of years ago with old weapons people are using as decoration or artifacts now while on an hospital bed." 

A wave of sadness hits him when he wonders about the fact everything he has known until today seemed to have stopped existing a thousand of years ago. His eyes drift off to the window beside his bed, drowning in the roundness of the moon, it's silver glow, and the strange shadows moving in the night. "No," he groans, "apparently people are using those sniper things now to fight each others."

"Not all people," Brienne squeezes his hand to comfort him. Her warmth spreads more intensely through his skin. Gods, he hopes she never lets his hand go. "I...I wonder sometimes if we are more deadly today using our guns and shooting bullets from a long distance than they ever were with those sharp swords," she observes in an almost whisper. "Sword fighting seemed to be a form of art. You had to get close to your enemy to kill. Today....you can stay hidden and shoot someone from far away, using only some shiny dark piece of metal. The sniper today. He...he almost killed you without moving an inch." Her voice slightly breaks while she says the last words, and his heart falls as an heavy rock in his chest. 

This world, no matter what is was, is as far away as Jaime's as it could get. Yet, Brienne seems to play a huge part in his life here. Yet, she stays an honorable knight at heart, wanting justice and helping people, even without a sword and an armor. She cares for him in a way he's far from deserving. That's his kind, loyal, fierce and caring Brienne; the one knight woman he admires in any world, he realizes now.

Jaime wonders if using those snipers and bullets things would have made it easier for them to defeat the dragon queen. Maybe he wouldn't have had to risk his life charging her. Maybe he wouldn't have almost drowned in the process. Maybe he would have won the battle and pleased Cersei. 

"Unfortunately for you, it looks like i'm still alive. Can you imagine? I'm so tough even snipers and dragons can't kill me." Jaime uses a light tone, or he tries to, at least. His chest burns again and he starts to think that, after all, those bullets things might be even worse than the fire of a dragon. When the wave of pain calms down, he meets Brienne's worried eyes and forces a small, tight smile on his lips. Before she opens her mouth to say something else, he continues. 

"I remember you, too." Brienne frowns, confused by the abrupt change in subject. "You asked me what's the last thing I remember before the stupid guy attacked me. I remember you, but I don't understand. Why are you here, Brienne? Don't the Stark girls miss your protection?" He finally asks without thinking further and anticipation builds up while he waits her answer. That's what he's been wanting to know almost from the moment he opened his eyes. Why is she here, caring so intensely for him instead of protecting the Stark girls in the North? Would she give up her oath for a man like him? An oathbreaker? A Kingslayer? Gods, he hopes not. 

She deserves more, always more, than anything he had to offer. The simple idea this could happen annoys him. The way she had been looking at him since the moment he woke up, her eyes shining with a strong and deep feeling he couldn't put a name on, leaves him confused. He doesn't quite know how to react to such unfamiliar emotions she has not for him, but for someone else. 

This Brienne is almost as much similar to the Brienne he knows than she is different, he concludes.

Brienne frowns, as confused as he is, it seems. "My protection?"

"Yes," he insists, and he starts to regret even asking. Could this place be this different from the one he left? "You swore an oath to Catelyn Stark to protect her daughter, at Winterfell."

She lets go of his hand, deep creases forming on her forehead and shadows lurking in her eyes. She lays her palm on his cheek, slowly caressing up and down the side of his face with her soft fingers. His breath catches in his throat at her unusual tenderness toward him. "Jaime," she whispers, low and as light as a summer breeze, "are you sure you are alright? You seem...confused. Do...do you want me to get the doctor check if everything is alright?"

"I'm not- Why would think-"

"Jaime," she cuts him and he likes the sound of his name said by her so softly, "I haven't been to Winterfell, not for years at least. I- I don't know Catelyn Stark daughters. Not-not personally I mean. I-We're not personal bodyguards, Jaime. We're cops. Partners. We protect people from murderers and bad guys," she hesitates suddenly. "Do you remember this?"

He has no idea what being a cop means, but he knows he will only accentuate her worries if he asks. So there was never an oath to Catelyn Stark in the first place? "I don't know what is true or not anymore," Jaime sighs, as lost as ever. He tries to ignore his skin tingling from her touch or her comfortable warmth spreading in his body, making the pain a bit more bearable, somehow. He realizes he doesn't really want to. He pulls his eyes away from hers, scared of what he could read in them, hit by the intensity of it combined with her touch. 

"You'll get better. I know you, Jaime, you'll be back in no time to work, bringing me coffee every morning and, _of course_ , being your annoying self." 

Was is what their life look like here? Working together to stop bad guys from murdering people and teasing each others? Part of him wonders what it would be like to see her every day, to not have to stop himself thinking about her because she was kilometres away and he had no idea if she was even still alive anyway or if they would even see each others again. To dive into those blue eyes everyday and see them lighting up to something stupid he said? To fight side by side, in some different way from his world but still? His heart flutters at those thoughts. He swallows, as a way to drown them. 

"Oh, I will most certainly will if you stay here and keep me in check. Quite the opposite when my family visits," he says instead of sharing his latest thoughts, grimacing. "Cersei might give me another deadly wound just glaring at me in disapproval." 

Brienne suddenly stops caressing his cheek and lets her hand fall on his bed, beside his body. A hundred questions haunt her blue eyes, but she asks none of them. "I-I didn't call them to tell them what happened. The hospital might have, though, i could go and check-"

Jaime places his hand on the one she keeps on his bed, an instinctive gesture. "No. To be honest, my family's presence might be worse than a wound. Or even dragons." He brings his eyes to their hands- hers is warm and reassuring- and, as if he'd just now realized what he had done, he pulls his away. 

"Maybe, but- I'm sorry Jaime. I didn't think you'd want them here, except Tyrion that is, not after everything." 

He hates seeing her apologizing for something she isn't guilty for, especially because he knows exactly what his father is capable of. "Don't. My sister is...difficult, but I doubt she'd pass an occasion to mock her poor brother being stuck in an hospital bed. She'll probably shows up," he adds, sarcastic. Oh no, the Cersei he knows would be annoyed to see him wounded because he did something as stupid as taking a hit in place of Brienne. Well, if this world's Cersei is the same than his, that is. For the first time since he opened his eyes, he thinks of Cersei. He would like to see how she is like here. Is she as beautiful and terrible as he remembers from where he comes from?

But Brienne almost looks afraid now, he notices, and a little sad. Shadows expends in her eyes, spreading as a dark blue clouds. He doesn't know what to think of it. "I-You, you don't remember? Gods, Jaime, I hate being the one to tell you this," she pauses, chooses her words carefully. "I'm not sure how they would react if I had called them. I don't, I don't even know if they know I exist, that I'm in your life now."

"Brienne, don't. What is going on with my family?"

She takes a deep breath, and he gets ready for the worst. "You haven't talked to your father and your sister for years, since- since you abruptly left the family business because you had enough of them and became a cop. You wanted to do the right thing, Jaime, the honorable thing, after your father tried to cover up the murder of an innocent to protect his business. You told me your father disherited you, and Cersei tries to ignore your existence. You told me it was for the best. You told me you were happier and feels free for once in your life now, and i guess, i like to believe it's true," she explains.

Jaime has no idea how he ought to react. "And what about Tyrion?" he whispers, almost scared to hear her answer. 

Brienne hesitates, but the amusement shining in her eyes now is telling. "Tyrion is...himself. I called him and I'm pretty sure he will show up tomorrow morning with a bottle of some Whiskey to celebrate your survival."

A laugh flutters between Jaime's lips. "Sounds like him. Good thing that one member of my entire family doesn't hate me, I suppose."

Some things never changes.

Well, Jaime is not entirely certain his relationship with Tyrion would involve drinking Whiskey together to celebrate, not anymore that is. Not since Jaime freed him and the bastard took advantage of the situation to kill their father. He still broils in anger when he thinks about those events, how the little brother he protected his entire life betrayed him.  
Some part of him, though, misses his little brother, wonders if he is even ok, wherever he could be. It did make sense that Tyrion would stay on Jaime's side, even if it meant going against the rest of their family. 

Father is still alive, here. It is quite hard to picture, how he could be alive despite all the schemes, the politics and the murdering. Father is alive, but Jaime doesn't exist anymore for him. He is no longer the golden boy, the precious heir to the Lannister house. No longer does his Father's shadow lurks over his life, pressuring Jaime toward what he thought was the right choice for a Lannister, the right way of thinking or acting. Or trying to at least. Out of the Kingsguard. Arranged marriage. Lord of Casterly Rock. All those roles he wanted Jaime to take on.

Almost at his surprise, he barely feels sad at the thought his Father isn't in his life anymore here.

His Cersei could never leave him behind, erasing him entirely from her life as if he were an annoying smear on one of her pretty dresses. Couldn't she? They are twin, they had been connected to each others from the moment they got out of their mother's womb. Certainly she wouldn't ignore him because he made different life choices, because he decided to stop working for his Father? _Yet, MY Cersei rejected me, back home, because i was missing a hand, so maybe she doesn't need much deep reasons to push me away._  
Yet, Cersei ignored the connection they have when he came back from Highgarden, broken and exhausted, the scream of his men getting burnt alive still echoing in his mind. That is, until it was late enough in the night she could sneak in his room and in his bed, even though she was the queen and could do whatever the hell she wanted now. That doesn't include, apparently, going to her brother's room in daylight and show the world how they felt about each others. Would it ever be the case, though?

What would his life looks like without her? 

What would his life looks like by Brienne's side?

His mind goes back to the words Brienne's used, probably quoting himself in the process. 

Feeling free for once in his life.

Being happier.

Far away from his family and their schemes. 

Those were the other Jaime's choices. Not his. But...

Lately, he was running in circles in a cage. A golden cage with thick bars impossible to destroy. At the moment he thought he was finally getting out and seeing just a bit of sunshine, he realized it was an illusion and the cage's bars were right back around him, suffocating him. And he was now at the very bottom of it. 

A wave of pain tears Jaime's chest apart again, burning as wildfire through his entire body this time. A deep groan escapes his lips, then replaced by a scream as his skin burns and burns to ashes, it seems. "Jaime," he hears. He recognizes Brienne's voice from far and how close she is from him. "Jaime," he hears once again, his name filled with worry and despair. 

This time, she's the one that yells, but he doesn't hear her. He's somewhere else between life and death, between awakening and sleeping, between one universe and the other. In a place where darkness is queen and emptiness her king. In a place that exists nowhere but everywhere at once. In between.

Another yell echoes in the shadows. It's vague, it's multiple sounds blending together until they get unrecognizable. Something spreads in his veins, a curious sensation that stands out even when he is deep in the darkness. 

Jaime falls sleep, again.

***

And he wakes up, his sheets wet with sweat at his back. 

_Brienne._

Instinctively, his hand falls on the other side of the bed, searching for warmth, for the comfort of another human being. For her.

He only finds a cold, empty side. His heart beats so fast it could rip out through his chest. What remains of the burnt is still well alive, and he's shaking. Jaime realizes after a few seconds his surroundings has changed. A short look around is enough to recognize his chamber at Kingslanding, lit by the dimmed light of the rising sun. 

The strange machines, the white room and, more importantly, Brienne, are gone.

Jaime tries to take a few deep breaths and he remembers something else.

_Cersei._

She had sneaked in his chamber, last night or a few hours ago or whenever before this had happened. Cersei is nowhere to be seen now, he realizes as he looks around again. She is gone, too. She must have left at some point in the middle of the night. 

Leaving him alone.

Overwhelmed by memories of this other side, this dream or the something he had lived, Jaime sighs, closing his eyes. Most facts and stories he heard didn't make sense, doesn't even now. 

Still, his mind conjures up blue eyes instead of green's.

He misses those blue eyes, even here, in his world. Maybe he could go back or try to. Once he figures out what to do next to defeat the dragon queen or convince Cersei to end those destructives battles once for all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Jaime's "dream", he finds many surprises waiting for him at Kingslanding. Cersei has plans he doesn't agree with but is forced to follow. He still questions himself about this weird dream he had. Then, as things go downhill at Kingslanding, he finds himself "dreaming" about this other world again. What he sees, and especially, who he sees, turns out to be quite pleasant. Not that he will openly admit it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, i'm back like...ten years after? LOL. Sorry. I wrote a couple of chapters ahead (for the first time in my fanfiction writer life), and it turns out to be more difficult than i thought it would be. I hope everyone is in character, also. I'm not so sure about Jaime, but i figured in the situation he's in with Brienne in this chapter, he'd try to hide his confusion and overwhelming feelings with jokes and snarks. 
> 
> I also apologize for the light Jaime and Cersei at the beginning of the chapter. It's not a JC forever fanfiction, however. They are actually fighting. I didn't include a similar discussion in my first chapter to be concise, but it felt necessary here. 
> 
> This was very, very fun to write. It makes me want to write an AU of this AU only about modern!Jaime and modern!Brienne lives as Kingslanding cops LOL. I really shouldn't. 
> 
> Please note i don't have a beta reader, and it's currently 1am here. All mistakes are mine.

Jaime's room still looms in darkness the first time he wakes up, but he finds himself unable to go back to sleep afterward. In fact, the same amount of time had seemed to pass here than in his dream or vision or whatever it was. It was the night when he went to bed, and dawn when he woke up from his dream. So, he lays unmoving under his blankets, his mind haunted with memories from another unattainable place. 

The memories from this other place feel real, too precise, and lacks the vagueness of dreams. Jaime has no idea what to make of this. Fortunately, when the morning comes, Jaime has many other matters to handle and a lot of reasons to push away those thoughts and questions in a corner of his mind. 

Tiredness weights heavy in his bones when he decides to get up for the day, as much as it had the morning before, after his battle against the mad king's daughter and her dragon. He opens up the blinds of the window and takes a breath of fresh air in an attempt to chase the drowsiness away. Then, Jaime doesn't waste one more second. He puts on his golden hand, noticing he has to focus more than usual on the familiar movement. 

He simply couldn't afford any weakness: he had important matters to sort out with Cersei today. He would catch up on sleep tonight. 

Jaime finds her breaking her fast in her room, guarded by two men of the Queensguard. "Cersei," he greats her on a neutral tone. Better keep his guard up considering there might be many ears listening in. After all, they just started to sleep together again. The time they spend in each other rooms might already rise suspicion. She looks up at him, then she distractedly orders the servant girls out with a shake of her head. Then, she takes a sip from the glass in front of her. "My dear brother," Cersei answers with a slight rise of her brows and a tone obviously mocking the dumbness of this title when it comes to their relationship. She looks straight into his eyes, confidant to the edge of arrogance, dangerously beautiful. "I wasn't expecting your visit so soon in the morning. It looks like you didn't get much sleep, last night. Had any unexpected visitors or unusual activities?" she continues, smirking knowingly at him. 

Jaime frowns, surprised to hear his sister implying so loudly visiting his room last night. He looks around anxiously if someone were close enough to have heard her. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Lower your voice or they'll know about us," he whispers. 

This does nothing to erase Cersei's smirk. She takes another sip of what he assumes is wine, a laugh curbing her mouth. "I am the Queen. I told you I don't care what others think."  
Irritation bubbles in him at her carelessness. "I suppose you won't have to worry about what other think after the mad king's daughter dragon burns the city to the ground."

"You shouldn't underestimate my plan, dear brother. Now the Iron Bank received the gold they were after, we'll have enough to buy war ships and soldiers from the Golden Company. They are known to be merciless and skilled."

"Are they also known to resist dragon fire? It would be a useful skill in these circumstances." 

Cersei raises an eyebrow after hearing his words, apparently annoyed by his resistance. Jaime avoids her eyes for an instant, unable to confront the heaviness and judgment laying in the way she looks at him. 

"The dragons are not invincible. Another weapon is being made at this moment and I'm confident it'll be successful to get us rid of these beasts. In a few weeks, we'll have everything we need to win the war. The number and efficient weapons." 

"A weapon? Of what kind? These beats are gigantic, Cersei. You can't kill them with a spear or arrows. Even the scorpion we had during the battle wasn't enough."

"Oh, don't worry. I have competent people looking into possible options and improvements. They have enough imagination to come up with an efficient weapon. After all, you told me yourself the scorpion hurt the dragon enough to bring it on the ground. We're getting closer to our goal." Cersei finishes up her glass of wine, then pour some more into her same glass. 

"Look, Cersei," Jaime sighs. "We aren't fighting against any other army here. Most of my men died on the battlefield, burnt alive in their armor. A horrible way to die. I almost died as well. There was only one dragon, and yet the scorpion broke before it could kill the beast or hurt it to stop it from flying away. It won't be enough to fight against three dragons."

"This is war. Men died and will die again during the next battle, dragons or not. I assumed you must be used to it as a soldier."  
The coldness piercing through her words and tone startles him. Maybe Jaime should have expected it after their talk yesterday, after the battle. But, this morning, Cersei's attitude burnt his skin as certainly as dragon flames. She didn't care for his men's health nor his own, isn't it? They are only dispensable pawns in her schemes. As soon as one of his men are killed, he can be replaced with a mercenary like a piece of rusted metal you throw out. 

If something had happened to him when he fought against the mad king's daughter, would she have stayed by his bed all night, worry etched on her face like she did? 

Jaime pushes those thoughts away before they could go deeper. It is unfair to compare Cersei to a version of Brienne that doesn't exist elsewhere than his dream. Cersei is real, she lives and breathes in this very same world. But, for some reason, something from this dream or vision or whatever it was stuck with him. He couldn't help to replay in his head his talks with Brienne, the way the moon touched her face with its silver light and how it makes her blue eyes shone. The unfamiliar but heartwarming smile on her lips despite the worry. The darker spots of freckles on her pale skin. 

"Which is why you should lead our new army to the upcoming battles. We need someone experienced on the battlefield, someone whose loyalty to the crown will never falter. You're the only one able to bring us victory."

Jaime frowns, suddenly pulled out of his thoughts, but frustrated he let himself be this distracted. "You're asking me to bring what's left of my men and numerous other soldiers to certain death. There must be other options we could consider, ones that wouldn't involve more avoidable deaths."

"And what do you suggest I, the Queen, wouldn't have thought about?" asks Cersei, taking a sip of wine, a hint of a smile Jaime thinks is almost mocking on her face. She did look like a Queen more than his sister at this moment as her entire being radiates power and arrogance, commands fear. 

"This is not a matter of what you thought about or not," Jaime answers in a soft, but exasperated voice. He doesn't actually want to fight Cersei. Fatigue weights heavy on his shoulders, pulling his entire body down, making his eyes sting. Each of their words sucks the energy out of him. But Jaime has to keep talking, keep fighting. 

A few months before, Jaime had learned he actually had the skills to end the siege of Riverun without bloodshed. He didn't need fights and swords to reach his goals: wit and negotiations were enough. Part of him is now wondering, confronted with an impossible to win battle, if he could reach the same achievement. Could the solution be found right in front of their noses? But the Mad queen's daughter would refuse to negotiate if they don't give her a reason to. 

But, yet, he hesitates. Cersei would disagree, he knows without even asking. Cersei needs clear victories. She needs to erase enemies daring to cross her without looking back, to conquer them, to rule. She needs to win, no matter the cost. "I'm saying we should keep our options open, Cersei," he finally says. 

"They are no other options. Are you such a blind fool you can't see it?" Cersei puts her glass back on the table with a loud sound. Drops of red wine topple over the glass and stain the pale wood. "You are a good lord commander, Jaime. You brought me the gold we needed and precious information, but you couldn't take down the mad king's daughter or her dragon. You said it yourself, most of your men burnt alive in their armors. You'll have to trust me on the next war strategy. You have to trust my decisions and do what you do best: lead the men I give you to victory."

He doesn't really have a choice here, does he? If he protests again, Cersei will accuse him of betrayal toward their House, against the crown. He doesn't have another option to suggest to her. An efficient option that would help them achieve the same goal. What else could he do except fighting again, and again, and hoping he doesn't bring all his men to certain death? And, even, hoping for his own death so everything will finally end? Maybe he wouldn't bring them to certain death. Maybe Cersei was right, victory against actual dragons was possible, and he'd misread the situation. Maybe he should trust her war strategies. 

But maybe not completely. Jaime remembers her poor political choices weeks ago after he had come back from Riverun, shoulders light from the victory he gained. He had found Cersei on the throne after she had crowned herself as a queen. He had worked hard backstage to make her see the gain of diplomatic and good political decisions that would keep her on the throne. She hadn't always listened to him. Despite his protest, she had made an alliance with this unreliable Greyjoy guy. 

No, Jaime should definitely keep an eye opened to keep Lannisters on the throne. In fact, Cersei and he complete each other well enough, he convinces himself. She rules as a queen, he tempers her sometimes heated and problematic political decisions. They work well together, as a team. That's why Jaime has to stay with her. That's why he couldn't leave her rule alone. It would be a disaster for the realm. They were twins, they were, as Cersei puts it, two faces of the same coin. Together, they could bring peace again to the realm. There's also the fact he has no idea where he would go if he leaves Kingslanding. What other choice does he have except sticking by Cersei's side, hoping things wouldn't go too much downhill in a disastrous way?

Jaime plays those words in his mind over and over again, as if to engrave them there. As if he would truly start believing it if he repeats them enough times. He doesn't answer to Cersei except for the impersonal nod of a knight to his queen. He assures her he would start working today on the next war strategy. Cersei answers with a satisfied smirk, and he leaves.

The same evening, he opens a bottle of good wine and drinks himself to sleep to forget the deep, never-ending, well he fell into. 

***  
Things don't get better as the weeks go by. Cersei puts her plan into motion and Jaime could do nothing else than trying to find ways to help. She doesn't want him involved in the making of the dragons weapons. However, Jaime has many military matters to handle, like the death roll from the last battle and finding out how many men they have left in their army (not many). 

He tries to avoid thinking of Cersei's schemes or the dream he had of this other world, another Brienne. In fact, he practically convinces himself what he lived the other night was simply a very vivid dream, something he made up in a deep corner of his imagination. Something that doesn't exist out of his own fucked up mind. Any other options would be impossible.

But, from time to time, his mind still flashes to a pair of blue eyes and the silver glimmer of the moonlight on a pale, freckled face. From time to time, he surprises himself thinking about this world and the new possibilities it entails. So, Jaime buries himself in his work and carefully occupies his mind. It works pretty well, up until a certain night. Jaime takes a few glasses of alcohol before going to sleep. To forget about the mess that his life has become. To forget about Cersei and Euron, whom she promised marriage. To forget how powerless he felt. He isn't drunk when he goes to bed, but his mind pleasantly buzzes from alcohol. Good, he thinks. It'll help him fall asleep.  
Maybe the alcohol caused all of this, he couldn't help wondering afterward. 

A minute after he closes his mind, a weird sound aggressively echoes in his ears. A loud and repetitive BIP that doesn't sound like anything he's ever heard. 

The sound immediately startles him back to consciousness, his heart thudding in his chest, his breathing short and quick and his eyes opened as if he were waking up from a nightmare. His eyes met a white and clear ceiling decorated with a dark metallic object with a weird shape. 

A ceiling that looks nothing like the one in his room, at Kingslanding. Shit, he thought, could it be this dream, again? His hand trembles and he grips the sweaty sheet in hopes to anchor himself back to reality. Jaime uses his legs to prop his body and sits on the bed, but he barely has time to move before a hand lays on his chest as if to stop him. However, pain still flashes through his chest and he hisses. 

"Go back t'sleep babe, t'just my alarm for work," a woman groans beside him. Although Jaime doesn't understand what she means, he would recognize this voice anywhere. "Brienne," he croaks, his voice still asleep even though his mind wasn't anymore. The fog of sleep in his mind clears up slowly as he takes in the situation. Brienne groans back at him, then, letting her hand rests on his naked chest, she moves closer and buries her face deeper against his neck. Jaime holds his breath, half-awake (or was he?), reveling (but trying not to, not too much at least) in the pleasant weight of her hand, the warmth of her face and breath against his skin. He doesn't dare to move or to breath, afraid it would stop and he'd lose her again, but not quite understanding what is actually going on, why does his body react so strongly to her closeness. What did he miss? And, also: What is going on with him if this is what he dreams of when he already sleeps with the woman he loves in the reality? 

Brienne sighs against his neck, and his skin tingles. When she finally pulls back from him, he suddenly feels cold in the air of the morning. She sits on the bed, taking her time and, as she turns to him again, and seems to realize he hasn't gone back to sleep as she told him to. She tenderly slaps his shoulder, carefully avoiding the place where his pain comes from and looking at him with a stern but still slightly sleepy eyes. "I'm not kidding. Go back to sleep, Lannister. The doctor ordered you to rest, and you should really take advantage of it while you still can." Jaime opens his mouth, a snarky line sitting on his tongue, but before he could do so, Brienne leans and presses her lips to his in a slow sleepy kiss. Jaime freezes, and she lays her palm on his cheek, caressing his morning stubble. 

Fuck, he thinks. That woman will be the end of me in every way. It seems like everytime they met, she pushes him further and further from his usual zones and challenges his beliefs both about himself than the world around them. Her palm is warm from being under the bed sheet all night and her soft lips taste like dreams and sweet. His beating heart threatens to pierce open his chest and she is so close to him the smell of her surrounds him, overwhelming, and the feeling of his skin against hers give him goosebumps. Every single body part of his is suddenly alert, awake and alive. It's been months since he last saw her, and years since the last time he stood so close to her if he counts their first journey to Kingslanding. 

Even in the half-lit room, Jaime notices darker marks the pillow left on her cheek during the night. Instinctively, his thumb traces the shape of those marks, but she pulls back and he stops, noticing what he was doing. Since when does he touch her this way? "Does healing also includes you kissing me to sleep? Because I could totally get used to that," Jaime asks, smirking to mask his confusion and overwhelming feelings she caused. A single kiss that lasts a few seconds but felt like a thousand ones. "Oh, shut up." Brienne rolls her eyes and jumps off the bed. "Your doctor simply wants to help you heal." Yes, Jaime remembers the horrible pain tearing his chest apart during his last dream. How could you even forget such pain? What name did Brienne give to the place he was at? He couldn't remember. "I hate healers and those doctors alike," he whines, trying out the new weird word on his tongue. At least, this fact seems to be true both in his reality and in this dream because Brienne rolls her eyes again. "Yes, I'm aware, but I just want you to get better. I can't stand seeing you in pain for this long," she whispers, looking more serious than she did a few seconds ago. "Stay in bed and rest, and, please, don't do stupid things like decide to take a walk to the precinct to see me or call Ryan and manipulate him into sending you some cases to work on from home, not like last time. Just - do nothing for once."  
"But, doing nothing is quite boring." 

"It's temporary, until your wound gets better. And if you don't, i swear i'm asking Tyrion to come and watch you during the day," Brienne answers, narrowing her eyes to show him she was definitely not kidding. Jaime shrugs nonchalantly. "I can perfectly take care of myself, you know."

Brienne rolls out of bed, but his words make her turn back to him, frowning. "Maybe," she admits, "but you can't rest, you always just run into the action without thinking, which is why I'm still calling Tyrion." Brienne gets up and walks through the room, indicating the end of that specific discussion. 

Her sleeping clothes strike him as odd, Jaime notices. It is a two-piece thing: a pink kind of shirt with sleeves almost as tiny as strings and large pants with a drawing like flowers pattern. He doesn't really know what women wear to bed in Westeros since Cersei was naked most of the time in the same situation, but it certainly wasn't this. Not that those clothes don't fit Brienne well, quite the opposite actually. He is troubled by the amount of skin he could see because Brienne is wearing such a tiny top, even without much light. And he has to admit he doesn't hate this observation as nearly as he probably should. The fact Brienne is even wearing such clothes is astonishing in itself, giving what he knows about her. If he were honest with himself, he almost expected her to get out of bed wearing full armor or some clothes cut for men. 

Brienne turns around and finds his eyes on her, carrying what looks to be clothes in her arms now. "I can hear you staring at me, Jaime." Her blue eyes are alight with shy amusement. "Hear me? I didn't think my eyes were making any noise," he answers, amused. "You think you're being funny." Brienne has to contain herself from rolling her eyes again, a ghost of a smile floating on her lips, however. 

"Maybe. But you're wearing such a tiny shirt, and the thing is pink. Of course, i would notice it." Here he is, testing the waters in this dream again, as he did last time. His words are careful, well-chosen so it would pass off as a joke rather than him behaving strangely. Jaime waits for a reaction on her part. A pause. Then, Brienne's smile spreads a little more and she crosses her arms. Mischief flashes in her blue eyes shining in the morning light filtering through the window, now going brighter by the minute. "That is called a pyjama and a tank top. And it turns out I like pink. Try again, Lannister, and stop judging my pyjama."

"Oh, so we're on last names basis now, Tarth?" Now that Jaime thinks of it, she had also called him Lannister earlier in the morning, right after he woke up. Strange. He couldn't say he hates it though. Also strange. "Please, we've always called each other by our last names. I think it's a cop thing." 

Right, they were cops. Jaime remembers she mentioned it last time as well. He still doesn't quite understand what being a cop even means. Something about protecting people and punishing bad guys, he gathers. He brings his attention back to Brienne. She is looking at a flat, small and rectangular object in her hands, frowning. The unfamiliar object seems to be diffusing light on her face. When Brienne's eyes rest on his again, a slight but regretful smile floats on her face. "I should get going if I don't want to be late for work. You know how Captain Gates is," she sighs. "I'll change in the bathroom to let you sleep a bit more. I promise I'll make enough coffee so you'll have some left when you get up. Bye, see you tonight." Brienne comes to the bed to gives him one last quick kiss before heading out of the bedroom. Jaime waits, listening for the sounds she is making through the house while getting ready. Most of them he couldn't quite recognize. Then, minutes later, the door closes softly and silence falls. She was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I would like to thank everyone that is still reading this story although i'm apparently not really good at updating. I guess the new job and writer's block didn't really help. I had a bit of trouble with the end of the chapter because both Jaime and Tyrion were not cooperating. I decided to split the chapter in two so i could post a new chapter earlier (although i ended up writing the chapter through the end lol, so it'll come soon!). Let's just say Tyrion suspects things are going on with his brother and things get all serious next chapter.
> 
> I've always loved Jaime and Tyrion's relationship and i had fun writing it here. There's also hints of JB, of course. Hope you like it too and...well...don't hate me too much?^^

Jaime doesn't move for a few minutes after Brienne leaves. The room gets lighter minute by minute. Soon enough, Jaime gets restless from laying still on a bed, so he tries to sit up in the bed. Pain throbs in his chest from the quick move, and he groans from its surprising intensity, clenching tightly his jaw. He falls back on the sheets, eyes closed, his breathing fast. Fuck. He had completely forgotten he was wounded here. Last time he was in this dream, he was laying in a hospital bed, Brienne by his side. How could he forget? In an instant of doubt, he asks himself if dreams could have this kind of continuity. Could he feel the same wound two dreams in a row? He pushes away the thought because only a fool would believe this dream was even real.

Jaime waits until the pain recedes before trying to move again. In fact, he realizes the wound is definitely not hurting as much as it did last time at the hospital. His surprise must have made the pain worse than it is really. Jaime tries rolling out of bed gingerly. He finally sits up on the edge of the mattress on his side of the bed with care, avoiding any sudden movement that would stretch the still sensitive wound. He sighs but waits a few more minutes just in case before standing up clumsily, making sure his foot anchor on the bedroom floor before.

Once he's up, the first thing he does is going to the window and pulling the curtains open with his hand. Looking outside doesn't help Jaime getting his bearings, though. His eyes drown in the ocean of pale grey he sees, although he also catches a glimpse of grass and a few moving objects with wheels that look unfamiliar to him. Well, he thinks, time to explore around some more until he wakes up from this weird dream of his.

And putting on some clothes would be a good start.  
Jaime slowly walks to the wardrobe Brienne had gotten her clothes from this morning and opens its doors. Most clothes look strange to him, but he ends up choosing pants with a rough and a little stiff fabric, and some random t-shirt. Both fabrics feel strange on his skin, but as much as he digs into the wardrobe to try to find something more familiar to him, he comes up with nothing else.

Jaime hardly succeeds dressing up himself using his only hand. He takes him more time than he cares to admit, partly because he moves carefully and pays attention to the movement around his healing wound. Then, he tries looking around for his golden hand, but, of course, finds it nowhere to be seen. Well, I suppose I'll have to do without it. Jaime finally pushes the door of the bedroom without hesitation, heading outside right away before assessing his surroundings. What could happen to him in a dream that would be much impactful in his real life, anyway?

He immediately notices two other doors at his right, one of which is half-open. However, he chooses to follow the short corridor at his left. He remembers hearing Brienne going left before heading out of the house. Plus, the short corridor seems to widen to a much bigger space just a few meters away, making it an interesting direction for him to take. He heads right there.

A few more steps later, Jaime ends up in the middle of a larger room. The place is like nothing he has ever seen at Kingslanding - or anywhere in Westeros if that matters. Before him rests a wooden table and four chairs, even though the design looks more delicate than all the piece of furniture they have in Westeros. However, the rest of the room catches his eye the most for how singular it is. A long counter separates what might be the kitchen - he guesses because the room looks nothing like a Westerosi kitchen - from the rest of the room. Against the wall at the bottom right of the room is another counter. Jaime can't identify the rectangular and different shaped objects laying on both counters. Someone, most probably Brienne, pulled open the curtains from the huge window on the wall at the other side of the room, in front of him. The morning sun passes through and shines across the room. Jaime blinks, his eyes taking a few seconds to get used to the sudden brightness in comparison with the quiet darkness of the (his? Their?) bedchamber.

  
Once his eyes get used to the light of the room, Jaime walks toward the counter that separates the room into two halves. His wounded body moves too slowly for his own taste, and he has to consciously be aware of his limits, which are different from the healthy body he has in his real life. Though the pain isn't as intense as he felt at the healing place he visited in his last dream, he still tightens his jaw in an attempt to lessen it. Jaime finally leans on the counter using his only hand, and groans from the effort. It feels so frustrating getting so tired for doing so little when he knows that as soon as he wakes up again, he will have a perfectly healthy body. His stomach growls; he supposes he has to find something to break his fast on before dying from hunger. Jaime wonders for a moment why he feels the need to eat in a middle of a dream. What do men even know for a matter of fact about dreams, anyway?

Jaime takes a look around, but there's nothing familiar to help him figure it out. There were so many doors and handles of all sorts. Why do those people need them all for? Jaime walks around the counter and stops in front of the wider doors of the entire room. He wraps his hand around one of the handles. They feel cold and smooth to his touch, and he can see his blurred reflection in the grey metal of the door. Once he opens the door, a blast of cold air hits and a flash of yellow light hits his face. He takes a step back, surprised, but after a few seconds, he looks inside again. It seems to be some kind of cold room because this closet is full of food. Some he vaguely recognizes and others not. His stomach grumbles from hunger; He reaches for one of the small transparent boxes laying on the shelves, curious to find out what kind of food is stocked inside.

  
Before he could, however, someone knocks on the entry door. Jaime turns around, startled. Is he supposed to be expecting someone? Should he answer or pretend no one is home? Wait, this is supposed to be his home, isn't it (his and Brienne's, adds a voice in his head he refuses to listen for now but his heart still skips a beat at the thought of living with her)? Plus, despite his wish to finally wake up again in his room, at Kingslanding, he has to admit he's immensely curious about the differences between this dream and reality. Whatever he does here would have no consequences on his real life. He figures he could keep pretending he was one of them just for the fun of figuring out things and messing up with those people's life a little.

Jaime slowly heads for the entry door, careful not to aggravate his wound. He turns the handle, excited with what he would find behind it. His smile melts when he sees the familiar face of his brother. Tyrion Lannister, the brother he had freed from jail and a death sentence while risking to be caught and called a traitor. The brother that had ignored the sacrifices Jaime had done for him and killed their father instead before escaping.

  
Jaime closes his jaws tight and unconsciously forms a fist with his only hand. "What are you doing here?" He glares at him, his eyes filled with defiance are piercing Tyrion's. His brother freezes and frowns at him, obviously not expecting his arrival would cause this kind of reaction from Jaime. "Making sure my big brother doesn't do anything stupid, as usual. Ever wondered what you would do without me and my famous wisdom?" His lips curl into a nervous smile for a second, before Tyrion realizes his brother lack of amusement. "Gods, you are no fun this morning. Brienne sent me. Will you let me in or would you rather suffer through her wrath when she comes back from work only to realize I didn't keep an eye on you?"

"I don't need anyone watching me," Jaime answers through his teeth. His several years long contained anger boils in his veins. "That's what you told me the first ten times I came here after your accident," Tyrion shrugs. "No need to be mad. I haven't killed anyone. Are you going to let me in or are you going to spend the morning pouting at me?"  
Jaime opens his mouth, fully intending of saying something snarky, even hurtful. But a realization hits him as suddenly as lighting. This dream version of Tyrion is right. He seems not to have killed anyone, despite him killing their father in Jaime's reality. He vaguely remembers Brienne mentioning both his father and his sister the first time he had this dream. Since everything else he had dreamt about the first time around seems to be still true, it was certainly the same about his family. He understood at the time Tywin Lannister was still alive, though the other Jaime barely stayed in contact with him. His anger is directed toward the Tyrion he had helped escape from jail and certain death, not this dream version of his brother. This Tyrion has no responsibility in what the Tyrion he knows did to their family. For the sake of this dream, he could give him a chance. Doesn't mean he has to trust him blindly, though. Jaime stares at Tyrion for a few more seconds, then he forces himself to step aside and let him in.

"Finally, big brother," begins Tyrion as he walks through the door. "I was starting to think you would kick me out of the building." He goes straight to the kitchen counter and hops himself on one of those small round chairs set on one of its side, then claps his hands together excitedly. "I would certainly have a mug of your famous coffee from your fancy coffee maker right now."

A what now? Jaime closes the entry door and carefully crosses his arm and his stump on his chest. "You can certainly see to it by yourself. Do I need to remind you I'm wounded?" He stumbles back toward his brother, frowning. Tyrion brings his hands up as if to say "I'm giving up". "Alright, alright, I get it. you're not in a good mood this morning. I suppose I can't blame you, being stuck in your bed doing nothing all day and everything."

Jaime shrugs and opens his mouth again. "Let's just say you talking doesn't really do anything to improve my mood." Tyrion jumps off the small round chair and, without an ounce of hesitation, walks toward an unfamiliar machine sitting on the counter against the wall, not far away from the door Jaime had opened earlier. He picks up some kind of translucent big long glass full of a steaming brown liquid that might look like a dark ale, and he frowns. "Looks like you have some coffee left for me after all."

Oh, right. Jaime remembers Brienne telling him something about coffee before leaving, though he couldn't recall the exact wording she used. After all, he was still barely awake at the time, so trying to understand a concept he knew nothing about could have been a bit too much for his asleep brain. "Brienne made some this morning for me," Jaime explains. This time, Tyrion freezes, his frown deepening. "Are you trying to make me swallow that Brienne made coffee for you, but you, Jaime Lannister, drank no coffee this morning? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" answers Tyrion jokingly, a laugh on his lips.

Jaimes realizes this Tyrion has never said something this close to the truth since he met him. He has no idea, though, if there's even another Jaime. "It's not my fault my brother practically knocked down my entry door when I was barely out of bed."

Tyrion rolls his eyes and proceeds to pour what is left of Brienne's coffee in two mugs. He puts one of them on the counter in front of Jaime before turning back to the weird machine. He puts back the translucent long glass then press a button. The machine comes to life, whistling and spitting a little steam. For a few minutes, Jaime can't help staring at it, fascinated. It looks odd to him how those sounds and this activity would result in making this brown warm liquid. Then, he realizes Tyrion is watching him, a frown hung up on his face. Jaime turns his attention to the mug sitting in front of him, placing his hands on it before taking the first sip.

Warmth and bitterness swirl on his tongue, the taste surprising him with its hint of sweet chocolate and nuts. Jaime lets a groan of appreciation reach his lips when he puts the mug down again. It tastes nothing like he expected it to be, but, somehow, he has to admit liking it. "Looks like you really needed that coffee, big brother. You should know by now abstinence is never the right solution," Tyrion says, his eyes alight with tease.

"You don't have to stay longer if you have other business to attend to. I wouldn't want you to miss important matter for my part," Jaime grumble, annoyed by his brother's presence. He accepted him into his house, but that didn't mean he had to be happy hanging out with this Tyrion anymore than he would when it comes to his own brother. Besides, Tyrion is getting a little too comfortable in Jaime's house as if he'd planned to stay awhile, to Jaime's dislike. "Nonsense. We're only starting to have fun. Where is your sense of humor, brother?" When it comes to you, Jaime thinks, my sense of humor has died when Father did. It doesn't feel right, though, to express this thought out loud.

"I can tell Brienne you came to visit me as she told you to and it'll be enough if it's what makes you worried." Tyrion laughs and the sound spreads through the room like wildfire. Jaime grits his teeth in answer. "You know as well as I do it won't. She'll want proof. Since you've been shot, she's made it her duty to protect you and to make sure you heal properly. Because of the little...stunts you pulled, she won't believe any word I tell because she'll know it comes from you, trust me. I have to admit, however, she isn't the only one sharing these worries."

Jaime opens his mouth, a sarcastic answer burning his tongue, but a shrilling sound from further away silence him. He freezes, eyebrows frowning with sudden confusion. His fingers twitch to his hips in an instinctive gesture to get to his sword, before he remembers he doesn't have a sword here. Well, not that it hardly matters since he's most certainly dreaming. Half a second passes, and the same long shrilling sound echoes through the home again, insisting. Where does it come from?

He realizes Tyrion is staring at him again, wearing the same suspicious eyes he did earlier. What was he missing here? "Are you not taking this call? Or have you lost your phone again?" Tyrion adds.

What does that nonsense even mean? Jaime thinks, frustrated. He frankly couldn't wait the moment he'd finally wake up in his home again, with familiar surroundings. He could talk to the maester and find a way to get ride of those dreams. Not that he usually puts much trust in Qyburn, of all people. "Haha, very funny. It's good to know you haven't lost your sense of humor, little brother," Jaime answers in a sarcastic voice. As the sound spreads through the home for the third time, though, Jaime keeps his ears open to try to figure out where it comes from. One second passes. Two. Three. Right, he finally realizes. The sound seems to come from the bedchamber he woke up in earlier.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime discovers more about this weird world. Tyrion realizes something might be wrong with his brother and he tries to find out what it could be. Brienne comes up in the conversation in an unexpected way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews and the kudos. I didn't expect that much feedback since Brienne wasn't really in the last chapter. I have to warn you Cersei is mentionned in this second part of the modern!Tyrion and s7!Jaime talk. It's nothing huge, but i thought i'd tell you all anyway. I thought it'd fit with Jaime's mindset back then so i kept it in. I have fun writing modern!Tyrion and i hope you'll like it as much as i did. In this modern world, his relationship with Jaime is quite different...and better. Also hope everyone is in character ;)
> 
> Thank you again for reading!

Before even Tyrion can open his mouth with another remark, Jaime heads to the hallway. He finds the bedroom again without much difficulty. The sun shines brightly through the window now, at this time of the day. Jaime squints his eyes, a little blinded by the new light directed at his face. As the long shrilling sound echoes a fourth time, he scans the bedroom, looking for the source of it. He spots a black rectangle object that looks unfamiliar to him on the bedside table, to the right of the bed which rests in front of him. He supposes it's the thing he is looking for and that Tyrion mentioned. _What was it called again? A phone?_

Jaime heads toward the strange object to take a closer look at it. He grabs it without waiting for a second but almost drops it on the floor immediately after, startled. The fact is, this thing wasn't only making shrilling sounds like some kind of a weird music, but it was also _vibrating_ loudly in his hand. He catches this phone thing at the last moment, before it can hit the floor, his old fighting reflexes kicking in (surprisingly, for a man with one hand fighting like a beginner, he thinks). His eyes lay on it again and he notices for the first time its top is alight, a name and a few numbers put together appearing on it for a couple of seconds before it turns deep black again. Did he see Brienne's name or were his eyes playing tricks on him? Jaime sighs: this dream was getting weirder by the minute and he was definitely losing his patience as well.

He vaguely recognizes Tyrion's voice from somewhere else in the house (the kitchen, probably), but he doesn't stop to listen. Instead, he observes the object in his hand. It looks mostly flat, except for a small swelling shaped as a circle whose edge is slightly higher than the rest of the top. Also, he notices the object fits perfectly in the palm of his hand as if it was made for this kind of use. Jaime presses the small swelling with his thumb, and his eyebrow raises in surprise as the top of the object - the phone - comes alight again. This time, Brienne's and his own face staring back at him, along with other numbers, four, different than before. He brushes the top of the object with his thumb, but nothing happens. Then, the object comes alive for the third time, and he notices new letters appeared. He can make out Brienne's name, along with a few words before the object's top becomes black again. Jaime is thinking about all the ways he could experiment with this phone thing when Tyrion calls his name. He decides to go back to the kitchen phone in his hand as a proof he was actually looking for it and not doing nothing at all.

Tyrion is sitting at the kitchen counter, coffee mug in hands when Jaime arrives. Even though a glint of tease shines in his eyes, Jaime believes he also sees a hint of worry looming on his face. "Well, it's about time, big brother. I was starting to think you'd gone to Essos to retrieve your phone."

"I did, can't you see my imaginary boat anchored on the floor?," Jaime answers without missing a beat, with a sarcastic tone. He lifts his hand holding the phone thing as a proof he'd found it. This time, Tyrion frowns and the glint disappears, leaving only a shadow of concern. "Brienne called me. She said you weren't answering your phone or even your texts."   Texts? Jaime thinks. Yet another word he's unfamiliar with. He shrugs, trying to look casual. "I suppose I was too slow. It stopped making sounds before I could do so."

"I see," Tyrion says, lost in thoughts. "You don't seem to be in a hurry to call her back and talk to her." "I have time, why such a hurry? We might see each other in a few hours, after all," Jaime answers. No, he supposes he should have said he has no idea how to even call someone, and why does he even dream of such weird, weird concepts?

Tyrion frowns at Jaime's words. "Last time you pushed back calling her this way, you were trying to cover up the fact you were planning her a surprise party for the evening and we all knew you'd not be able to keep the secret otherwise, you know, for your fourth anniversary of you meeting each other. Well, if we can call the time she saved your poor ass from the troubles you put yourself in at the Riverlands while you were undercover and bringing you back to Kingslanding an actual meeting anniversary, that is. You guys must be the only persons in all Westeros to do so."

The Riverlands. Troubles. Meeting Brienne.

So, it had also happened here, in this dream-universe of his. Well, he supposes some things never change. Tyrion used strange words to recall the event, some he hasn't heard before and doesn't quite understand, but true relief fills up Jaime at the familiarity of this story. Or at least he thought he had finally heard something familiar.

"Let me tell you, brother, that a walk through the marvelous landscape of the Riverlands on a leash is hard to forget," Jaime says, sarcastic. And she is hard to forget as well, was, even at the time, Jaime thinks, but he pushes the thought away before it goes further.

"A walk on a leash on this distance? I didn't know about that, but it sounds very romantic," a laugh escapes Tyrion's mouth, but he realizes a second later Jaime stays serious, and it melts like a first snow in fall. "I hope it's a figure of speech, that is."

Tyrion dives his lips into his mug again, eyes far away as if to ponder his next words. When he talks again, however, his tone is light and teasing. "Anyway, what are your plans for today? Something huge and overdramatic I suppose?"

Jaime raises his eyebrow. "For today?"

"Yes, it is your fifth anniversary of meeting today, isn't it? I'm your brother, you can trust me with whatever cheesy plans you have. You're lucky, I would even say yes to dancing in a flashmob if you ask properly," Tyrion adds.

Wait, what again? An anniversary of meeting her? Jaime is still staring at him quizzically and, without thinking much first, asks: "What do you mean?"

This time, Tyrion freezes and throw and odd look at him. "Wait, you forgot about it? The anniversary? Or are you messing with me?"

Shit, Tyrion had him here. What could he answer to this without betraying himself? He couldn't be certain of how far he should go in telling the truth here, especially when it comes to telling to Tyrion. Jaime believes he's dreaming, of course, but his instincts still scream at him to be careful and to choose his words wisely. Plus, he doesn't understand why it would be so important for him to celebrate the day he met Brienne, today of all days. Wouldn't it be more appropriate to celebrate a wedding anniversary date? So, Jaime decides staying as vague and sarcastically funny as possible stays his best option. "No. What do you mean you would say yes to dancing if I ask properly? What would I need to do for you to accept?"

Tyrion crosses his arms and looks at him suspiciously. "You totally forgot about the anniversary. You are trying to divert the conversation." His face suddenly turns serious, and Jaime knows the brotherly banter is done. He realizes with a pang in his stomach how much he'd missed the relationship he used to have with his little brother before everything went to ashes. "What is going on, Jaime?" Tyrion asks.

"My dear brother, you worry too much. Soon you'll turn as white-haired as an old man," Jaime throws back.

 "It is not my fault you got shot not so long ago and, yet, you refuse to stay quiet and heal," Tyrion pauses as if weighting carefully his next words. "Also, you seem off and a little confused, brother. I know the doctor gave you some meds to take weeks ago, but I thought you'd be done with it by now."

"My mind is in perfectly good health, not confused, as you put it. I told you, you worry too much about nothing." 

A determined flame burns in Tyrion's eyes, and Jaime knows instantly he won't let this go that easily. Jaime decides to prove him wrong, mostly simply because he could. No way he would let this traitor of a brother win, no matter how much he missed him.

"Who are the close family members we have left?"

"Easy. Me, you, Cersei and Father, Tywin."

"What about mother?"

"She died when we were kids, when she gave birth to you," Jaime tries, hoping this hadn't changed. Tyrion must have been satisfied with the answer he gives because he resumes the questions.

"Which city do we live in now?"

"Kingslanding."

"How long do you and Brienne have been engaged?"

Engaged? Jaime refrains the frown from showing on his face, trying to make it as neutral as possible. He quickly tries to recall Tyrion's words from earlier. He knows his brother will be suspicious if he pauses for too long, so he answers a few seconds later only. "Five years."

He scrutinises Tyrion's face for a hint, a reaction that would indicate him if he told the right answer, but got nothing.

"Who is the newly elected king?"

"It is a Queen. Cersei."

This time, Tyrion freezes for a few seconds, staring at Jaime as if measuring the seriousness of his words. Then, he starts laughing again, a loud, clear and unstoppable laugh as if Jaime had told him an exceptional jape. "Oh, this is certainly the best jape I have heard in years, really. Our sister Cersei, the Queen." A few seconds pass before Tyrion's laugh quiets down a little, before he could form coherent words again. The sound shrills to Jaime's ears and it seems like the more Tyrion laughs, the more anger boils in his veins, but Jaime clenches his teeth and says nothing. He waits. He contains it. "I have to say, brother, this was a smart attempt to divert our discussion toward another safer subject, catching me off guard with such a jape."

Jaime frowns, insulted on behalf of their sister. "I didn't do such an attempt, but I suppose I should have if you're enough of a fool to get caught off guard by a jape that isn't one." Even in a dream, even when everything is blurred and messy between him and his sister, he can't help but defend her. In fact, defending, protecting, loving Cersei was half his life up to now. For the first time, Jaime wonders if it is as much of a good thing as he's always told himself, but he supposes old habits die hard.

"Surely you don't really believe this? Or maybe we are not talking about the same mad and alcoholic sister of ours." Tyrion asks, as skeptical as he was worried about Jaime's mental state.

"You truly have no idea what you're talking about. The Cersei I know is a good queen, Tyrion. She can take unpopular decisions and do whatever it takes to build a new Westeros and bring peace to our kingdom," Jaime adds, the words flying off his tongue in a cold rage against Tyrion's insults. However, he can't help but notice he mostly repeats the same words he told Olenna Tyrell weeks ago, how practiced he sounds almost as if he was saying them out of habit, how it seems like the more he pronounced them and the less he believed them. Maybe Tyrion is right, after all, he thinks but pushes the thought away almost immediately.

"Jaime - " Tyrion tries, sounding almost hesitant and regretful of his words and reaction.

"No. I don't give a shit about what you think. We both know nothing here is real and that in a few minutes I'll wake up again in my world. Let's stop pretending otherwise."

"I- What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh gods, cut the crap, Tyrion. I'm tired of playing these games. Twice now I've gone to sleep in my world, only to wake up in this strange dream I know nothing about and doesn't even exist."

"A dream? Wait, you think you've been dreaming? This world is real. I'm real. I'm pretty sure I would know if I were not."

"Of course you do," Jaime answers, sarcastic and so, so tired of all of this. He looks at Tyrion but his brother seems lost in thoughts, staring at a point over his shoulder. "Interesting. You wouldn't happen to know what I'm talking about if I ask if you're still taking your pain meds, wouldn't you?"

Jaime sighs, annoyed. "My...what? Can you get to the point please?" The world around him starts to move and swirl again all of a sudden, and he blinks. It comes back to normal.

"Never mind. Do you have this...dream every night or is it at random? You simply fall asleep some night and you end up here, in this world?"

"Yes, this is exactly what happens. I dream I end up here at random nights, without apparent reasons."

"What does your world look like? What do you do there?"

Jaime doesn't answer immediately. He stares at Tyrion, hesitant as if assessing if Tyrion could be trusted with such an information about his life. After all, he didn't know this Tyrion as he didn't know his own brother as much as he liked to think. He couldn't have anticipated his brother would go kill their father when he freed him from jail. Tyrion must have seen the mefiant look on his face because he raises his hands in rendition and explains further.

"Relax, Jaime. I'm simply trying to help you here."

Jaime swallows a cynical line in answer but opens his mouth anyway. "I'm the lord commander of the Lannister's army in Kingslanding and a knight serving the Queen," he answers, full of pride. The world around him becomes blurrier, and sudden dizziness hits him so hard he feels like he's about to fall, and he puts his hand on the counter to keep his balance. Tiredness weights in his bones but he fights to keep his eyes open longer.

Tyrion's eyes widen with surprise. "Wait. Are you telling me you believe you are a knight from Old Westeros era? How is this possible?"

"That's the point, Tyrion. I have no idea."

Tyrion rubs his chin, lost in thoughts. "Interesting, very interesting. Legends say they were dragons back then. Have you ever seen one? I've always had a soft spot for dragons."

Jaime groans at Tyrion's question. "I wish they were. I don't want to talk about these beasts." It was the very last thing he wants to think about these days since the mad king's daughter had burnt in men in ashes during the last battle.

"How did you meet Brienne in this world of yours?"

Jaime frowns. "How does it matter?"

"The same than what I told you earlier. I'm trying to help you. And, I have to admit, I'm also deeply curious."

Jaime's frown doesn't melt away, but he still answers. "We met when I was a war prisoner of the Stark. She had vowed to Catelyn Stark she'd bring me safely back to Kingslanding. And she did, pig-headed stubborn as she is."

" _Definitely_ sounds like our Brienne. So she is a soldier as well?"

"She's more knightly than most knights I know of," he adds, wondering why he felt the need to praise her as much as he did in front of Tyrion. Damn Wench and her persistent presence in his thoughts. His mind flashes back to a red tent, to her pleads for Jaime to end the Riverrun siege without turning it in a bloody bath, to their intimate closeness and dreading they would have to fight against each other if Jaime failed. A fear that made him keep pushing to find other ways to end this.

"Did you marry her already?"

"What?" Tyrion's words suddenly push Jaime's mind back to reality. Why would he marry Brienne? She is a maid, after all, and most certainly more interested in keeping her vow to the Starks then in marrying the Kingslayer of all men.

"You know what I said. Did you?", Tyrion pushes.

"Why is it even important?" Jaime pauses, waiting for Tyrion's answer. An answer that doesn't come. "No. She has other interests than taking a husband. I suppose some lords desperate for power and lands with a good name will claim her as a bride if she changes her mind."

"Is it even possible?" Tyrion laughs again. "A man claiming her as her bride without her consent? He'd be a brave lad." Jaime thinks he hears sincere admiration in this Tyrion's words, and he can't help but feel his heart inflate with pride for her.

"And your point is?" Jaime brings back the conversation to their point of interest. He has no time to waste with Tyrion's annoying japes.

"Never mind, Jaime, never mind. I think I have a theory about what could be happening to you but I need to test something and do some research. I might also have a way of proving you are currently not dreaming."

"How?" Jaime groans, curious despite himself. His eyelids are getting heavier and he is unsure how much time he'll be able to fight it. He feels every part of his body giving up one by one to unconsciousness. Darkness would swallow him again in minutes and he would be back in his world soon, he knows it.

Tyrion doesn't immediately answer his question. Instead, he jumps off the small chair and dives something out of one of the pockets of his pants. He drops it off in Jaime's outstretched hand. Jaime frowns and looks down at the strange dark coin now in his hand, made in copper, different than what he is used to. "What the gods are this?" he asks, a few seconds later.

"A coin from here. Listen, I will hide it in your bedroom, a place no one will think of looking. When you're back in your world, go look for it. If you are right and this is only a dream, you won't find it in its place when you wake up. Why would you, isn't it? It's an imaginary world. If you do find it in its place, however, you'll know I was right. You seem to travel to this world when you go to sleep in your room. It seems most likely the coin will do the same. Where is your bedroom, Jaime?"

 "When I wake up from here, I might never get back again. I'll do as you say if only to prove myself I'm right." The pull of sleep gets stronger and stronger. "I sleep at the Red Keep, in the bedchamber that is the closest to the Queen's," he answers weakly, distracted by his tiredness.

There would be nothing wrong in closing his eyes and sleeping for a while, he supposes. After all, he is deeply tired, and all the shapes and colors of the world around him becomes one, hazy, object.

"What are you waiting for then? Time to go back to bed, big brother. Do you need a bedtime story?"

Darkness falls before his eyes, swallowing everything else. Tyrion's voice resonates somewhere far away, as if from another world, until Jaime is unconscious again


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime looks for Tyrion's coins and he leaves the city in hope he finds the answers he is looking for. He has an unexpected visitor during the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait. Job totally eats up my time. I hope the long chapter will help making up for it ;)  
> Funny thing: as i was writing another short scene with Cersei, i realized she appears in two scenes in my fic and she is drinking red wine in both of them. I 100% leave it this way anyway because Cersei x wine is one great otp hahahaha.
> 
> Also: GOT!Brienne is back in this chapter :DD.
> 
> I hope you like the chapter! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> All mistakes are mine. I don't really have a bêta reader. To be honest, i was never good and too shy to get one lol

When Jaime opens his eyes again, the light of dawn barely filters through the window of his room. At first, the world around him looks like a hazy swirl, and a headache starts pulsing in his head quickly enough, so intense and painful he closes his eyes again, groaning. Fuck. He really shouldn't have drunk as much as he did. When was it? Last evening? The evening before? A couple of days ago? Memories flash behind his eyes: fighting with Cersei about their next war strategy, a bottle of wine and himself drinking away the hopelessness of his life. 

Then, he thinks, then...

The dream had come back, longer and more real it had never been until now. 

Brienne, sharing a bed with him during a lazy morning. Her scent, filling the empty space around him as every centimeter of him was breathing her in. But this was another Brienne, an illusion he built for himself that had nothing to do with the Wench he knew. Everything he might have felt back then must be a production of his poor fool mind.  
Tyrion, being...Tyrion and trying to convince him so very hard this world wasn't a dream like he thought it was. Jaime's eyes pop open as everything that happened floods back through his mind. 

The coins. 

This is Jaime's chance to find out the truth and to finally figure out what is going on. He has the opportunity to prove to himself he is right, that this is simply a weird recurrent dream. Jaime gets up from the bed, his whole body hurting as if he were back in the dream again, and the world around him spinning. He has to rest his hand on the wall for a few seconds to keep his balance. Gods, this is not good, he thinks. How is he supposed to fight to keep the Lannister's name alive and in power in this state?  
Jaime supposes he should go back to his bed and rest again for some time until the sun is up and shining in the sky. Maybe he would feel a bit better in a few hours. The problem is, he can't wait. The anticipation because the answers are so close now buzzes in his veins. He has to find out what's happening to him, now, so he can go back to his everyday business. 

***

Once the world comes back to normal, Jaime takes a look around his bedchamber. Where would Tyrion hide the coins for him to find, if he had to? If there were coins to find, that is. What would be the perfect hideout here? His eyes fell on his bed, beside him. He sometimes hides precious personal objects under his mattress so no one else would find them. He doesn't know if his bedchamber looks the same in the other Tyrion's world than it does in his, but he supposes this is a good place to start searching.

Jaime lifts up his mattress, trying not to hold his breath too much. His haste to find these coins feels ridiculous, even to himself. After all, why put so much effort into this when he logically won't find anything unfamiliar in his own room? Tyrion knows just the right words to make him doubt, of this Jaime is sure. Now Jaime is back in reality, though, he realizes how a fool he was for taking this other Tyrion so seriously. The mere thought of the existence of another world existing at the same time than his seems like a non-sense stretch. Jaime needs to find out the truth so he can heal himself back to normal and make it stop.

He kneels and passes his hand in the space under the mattress but he only touches emptiness. Yes, Jaime was a fool to trust his brother about this matter. He sighs; he would need to find another option to fix this mess. 

Damn his brother for knowing exactly how to play him. 

Jaime moves to get up again but finally notices it. 

There was a misplaced wood piece to the other side of the room, hanging at the bottom of the wall. He doesn't usually spend hours staring at his bedchamber and notice every detail of it, he has to admit. However, he is almost sure no piece of wood from this wall was placed as this one before. Plus, something seems to draw him to it, as if he mysteriously knows he would find what he is looking for here. 

Jaime walks to the wall facing his bed and kneels beside it. He reaches for the piece of wood dangling at the bottom of the wall and it moves as soon as he pulls on it. A hole as dark as the night reveals itself before him. Well, he supposes he just found Tyrion's perfect hideout place. Jaime squints in the weak light of the dawn to see inside but his eyes only meet darkness. He stretches his hand in the hole, and his fingers immediately feel the cold of stone, wood, and dirt. Then, they close on something else with an odd texture and shape. Is this some kind of leather he doesn't know? Jaime frowns and pulls the object back to him. 

Less than a minute later, Jaime looks at some rectangle shaped small and thin bag. He has to pull on the even smaller piece poking out of the bag a few times before being able to actually open it. Not a string, it is too cold at the touch for it. 

But he already knows what he will find inside this unfamiliar bag.

When he shakes the bag over his open palm, five copper coins fall in it. The face on the coins and the feel of them on his skin is strange, as unlike Westeros coins as he would have thought. 

Tyrion was right.

***

"My Lord Lannister," Qyburn starts, his honeyed voice sounding false to Jaime's ears. "Your Grace wishes to see you as soon as possible in her bedchamber."

Seeing Cersei is the very last thing Jaime wants to do right now. He clenches his teeth, annoyed. 

"I have other important matter to attend to," Jaime answers, biting his tongue not to add more important matter than whatever Cersei wants me to do. "Can't it wait? I'll join her in her bedchamber later." What has she done again? But he also keeps this thought to himself. His patience for Cersei is wearing thin and his feeling of lack of sleep certainly doesn't help. 

"Certainly, my Lord. I will let her know you will come later today," Qyburn continues. He bows slightly and turns back in the Red Keep corridor to where he came from. Jaime had barely even stopped to talk to the strange old man. He supposes even Qyburn had realized he was in a hurry, which could explain why he didn't insist much. Once the man leaves his sight, Jaime dives his hand inside his leather jacket to check on the parchment piece hidden there. He thought it would be safer to hide it from everyone's else sight. It might become suspicious to certain persons in the Red Keep, him carrying around a secret message no one knew about and going on his way to send it. He could never know for sure if there were someone listening in or watching in, desperate to play the politic game and to find a way to the top. Most of these people would be happy to watch him fall if it meant them going upward. The thing is, he doesn't even need them to fall. He's been known as the Kingslayer for decades, after all, he thinks sarcastically.

It is especially true if someone would find out he is actually sending a message to one of their enemies. 

Jaime has to admit the trick the Tyrion from his dream pulled off left him frozen in place for minutes, the coins resting in his hand. Or Tyrion from the other world, as he should think of him now. 

And he thought his life was complicated before when he had to manage Cersei's mad impulses for the realm's safety and fight dragons burning his men alive. Now, he also has to manage traveling between worlds and the other Jaime's life. That is simply perfect.

Then, while Jaime was still looking at the coins in his hand, wondering what he should do next, he suddenly remembered how a lot of events from his life also seemed to have happened in this other world as well and the ways both worlds appeared similar. Well, on some points at the least.

The other Tyrion had implied he knew what was happening to him. Could his brother from this world also have such a knowledge? Could he be the only one able to somehow help him here? There was no guarantee he'd go back there if he went back to sleep now. He hasn't gone to this place two nights in a row until now.

No, he had decided at that moment. Tyrion was his only chance to make this weird worlds traveling thing stops, at the exception of the other Tyrion. Also, he simply couldn't wait to go back to this other world before at least attempting something. Who knows how long it could take? Gods, he could not stay in this state for several weeks or even moons. It would drive him mad.

On an impulse, Jaime had pulled a parchment from his desk, in a corner of his room, and had started writing a message to his brother. He had trouble putting aside his anger toward his brother and how he had betrayed him. Jaime had ended up writing a short message requiring his brother's help for a personal but urgent matter, without explaining much in case the message was intercepted. He had urged him to come to meet him alone in Kingslanding, hoping it would be enough to draw his brother's attention.  
Jaime finally gives the parchment to a raven. Now, I simply have to wait for one thing or the other to happen, he thinks. 

***

A few days later, Cersei waits for him in his bedchamber, on his bed. Jaime stops walking right when he sees her once he gets in the room, his eyes questioning but the annoyance he is feeling obvious enough.

"Cersei. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise of your sudden appearance in my bedchamber today?" he asks, sarcastic. 

Cersei throws a smirk at him, then gets up from the bed and walks to the table, before pouring herself a glass of red wine. She seems to glow with power, her head and chin high, standing in the room as if she owned the place. Almost like the queen Jaime always thought she would be, the ideal he'd always painted in his head.

"Why, my dear brother, do I always need a reason to pay you a visit? I thought you'd appreciate it if I reminded you of my existence," Cersei adds, her words attempting to pierce his skin.

"How could I ever forget you, I wonder, if you make so many efforts gently reminding me," Jaime answers, a bit cynical. His head is throbbing with an intense headache he couldn't get rid of, lately. He pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quiet the ache. Needless to say, it didn't work really well. Even though he hadn't traveled again in this other world during the last days, Jaime had been waking up more tired than when he got to bed the evening before, over and over again. It got to the point he was considering going to Qyburn, of all people, and ask him to give him something to sleep better at night. But he inherited Lannister's pride, so he stopped himself from going. 

"Despite my efforts, however, you appear quite forgetful on certain chosen things these days, brother. Did the dragon you fight wiped out your memory, somehow?" Cersei spits, with a satisfied and cocky smile. She takes a sip of wine from her glass.

His headache seems to spread and throb even more as if someone is piercing a hole with a big spear. "Are you going to tell me what you want, Cersei, or are you going to play these games with me for the rest of the day?" Jaime snaps, louder and more impatiently he had meant to. He shuts up immediately, a bit surprised at his tone that was so unlike him.

"Oh, don't get so mad," Cersei answers, waving nonchalantly her hand to tell him this is nothing. "I was getting at it, brother, if you must be in such a rush. What is the matter with you?" she asks, sounding almost disinterested despite her question. She takes another sip of wine, examining him quickly with a concentration frown on her face. "Now that you mention it, you do look pale and exhausted. "

Cersei drops off her glass on the table and walks slowly, seductively, toward him. "You are lucky I know you." She cups his face with one hand, now so close to him he could feel her breath and warmth on his face. He feels like she breathes harder and slower on purpose as if taunting him with that smell of her. "I know how to make you relax and how to bring back the brother I love and need," she adds, her voice soft and warm. 

"Cersei -" he starts, but she cuts him off with a kiss. He startles, surprised by the touch of her lips on his, almost hypnotized by the familiarity of it. Then, a realization of what is happening hits him and he gently pushes her away. "Cersei," he repeats. "What the gods are you doing?"

She slips her hand down his cheek, his neck then under his shirt through his collar. "I meant it when I told you I need you by my side. The legacy of Lannisters is up to us now. I need your help to keep it alive and powerful."

"You know you can have it any time you need it, you simply have to ask, but this isn't the time for this," Jaime says, taking off her hand from his shoulder to add gesture to his words. Cersei's eyes shine with hurt and nastiness for one second at his rejection. "What, brother? You run through the castle in a hurry to send a secret message, but you are too exhausted to properly fuck your queen? Did the dragon also ate your man parts and made you weak?" Cersei spits at him.

Jaime freezes at Cersei's words. Could his sister have found out what he was attempting to do? That he was writing to the enemy to request a meeting? "What do you mean I was in a hurry to send a message. Who told you that?" asks Jaime, uncertain what to make of her words. That vital question is so important he is willing to forget her insult for a second.  
Cersei walks back to the table, grips her glass of wine but she doesn't immediately takes a sip. She leaves it hanging in the air. "I know everything that's going on in this castle, Jaime. I thought you knew this." She takes a long sip of wine as if to create false and unneeded suspense. "Truth be told, I don't care who you were writing to, brother, as long as you assure me your loyalty remains untainted. I am ready to act on your advice and attempt to rally more allies to our cause, other than the Greyjoys."

"You know I'm loyal to our family, and it is wise to look for good allies in these times. But most of our good allies died during the battle against the mad king's daughter. There's just about no one left that hasn't joined the mad king's daughter and the North, Cersei," Jaime answers, choosing his words carefully in case Cersei had more information about his letter that she had let on. What in the gods did she have in the head?

"We still have the Reach."

Jaime frowns. "We might, but most their armies died burnt by the mad king's daughter and her dragon. Some of them must have joined her army because they feared their death."  
"In this case, you can certainly make sure what is left of them are still on our side." 

"You want me to go to the Reach to solidify the alliance," Jaime realizes. He's still not completely convinced by Cersei's idea. As a matter of fact, it feels like a useless and desperate journey he couldn't make sense of. 

"As a matter of fact, I do," Cersei answers, taking another sip of wine. "You should leave for the Reach with some of our men as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I'll take care of Greyjoy and preparation for the war to come."

"Sounds wise. Our army almost got decimated a few weeks ago because a fucking dragon burnt our men to ashes, but let's send our few men left to save an alliance that probably doesn't even exist anymore," Jaime frowns, his tone sarcastic. He keeps trying to see Cersei's strategic point but failing to. 

Cersei ignores him and looks at the bottom of her wine glass instead, disinterested in his opinion, it seems. "I trust your diplomatic skills and your bravery, brother."

Gods, his head seems to be throbbing, even more, every time Cersei opens her mouth. He really did need the sleep. Why do things always have to be complicated with her? But she is the last family member he has left and she seems to be still needing him. And he still needs her. He couldn't exactly betray her at a moment she needed his help the most to keep the throne in Lannisters hands, fight their multiple enemies and finally bring some peace to the realm. Also, he supposes a trip to the Reach could be useful to attenuate the consequences of the latest dragon fight and to solidify Cersei's power. He realizes leaving the castle might give him his best chance to meet Tyrion without making Cersei suspicious. 

"You know I will, Cersei." After all, he has to prove his loyalty to their family, to her. His refusal of treason. There's also the fact he lacks the energy and the patience to engage in yet another argument with Cersei today. Accepting her order seems like the best way to avoid a fight, lower his frustration toward her and stop this headache of his. 

"Good." Without adding any more words, she leaves her glass of wine on his table and walks through the door, leaving Jaime standing in his bedchamber, alone.

***

Jaime is still half-irritated Cersei pushed him out of Kingslanding for a mission that might end up being useless when he rides out of the city a few days later with his men. He didn't really have a choice, however, didn't he? She implied he was betraying her and wasn't loyal to her anymore and had insulted him. Is it her way of punishing him for rejecting her advances? Of course, Jaime had found ways to make this journey useful. He arranged a much-needed meeting with Tyron on his way to Highgarden. He built a good strategic and diplomatic plan to try and get the Reach back on their side. 

However, despite his attempts to get some sleep into him, his health hadn't improved much these last days. After a few hours without headaches, this damn thing has come back full force. Jaime is doing his best not to show his struggles to his men, since he is the commander, for one thing, and a proud Lannister. It is his responsibility to act as normal as possible no matter what is going on. He is far from certain he is actually succeeding, however, if the worry glances he gets from them and Bronn or the whispers he caught a few times are any hint. 

But he must not care about the opinion of his men about his health. He has much important matter to tend to. No, as long as these men still obey him, this is no problem. They rode for a few days away from Kingslanding, and Jaime ordered them to stop for the night outside of Tumbleton, close to the Mander river. It isn't their usual stop for a journey south, but Jaime supposes his men won't ask questions, as loyal as they are. 

This is also the place himself and Tyrion agreed on when they arranged their meeting. After Jaime had found out Cersei was spying on him, he had been more careful than before when he was sending secret letters to his brother. It was important Cersei didn't discover Jaime was in contact with Tyrion or what was happening to him. He couldn't exactly imagine having to explain to her, of all people, how he is supposedly traveling in another world different from theirs in his sleep. She'd probably mock him and try to get him out of his pants again, insisting she could "heal" him, he thoughts, sarcastically. 

Jaime orders his men to build up his tent in a corner away from the rest of the camp, close to the Mander river and wood. Jaime declares he needs quiet to think about their next move. Given the fact he probably looks like he feels, like crap, no one asks questions. 

He spends the next few hours trying to act as normal as possible and hoping Tyrion would hold up his part of their plan. In fact, Jaime is a bit apprehensive and angry at the idea of seeing his brother again - his real brother, not the other Tyrion. Will he look changed? How different than the other Tyrion will he be? Would he find a way to fix Jaime's problem? Would he even believe his story? Jaime doesn't know what to expect from his brother if he was being honest with himself. While Jaime busies himself with every day tasks on a military camp, he can't help but think about the other Tyrion and the other him. He caught a glimpse of their relationship while he was in this other world (he still couldn't believe he is thinking about the concept of another world as if it were real, even though it seems like a true fact and it's the most accurate way to describe what he lives). What he saw reminded him of how it used to be between him and his brother here, in his real world. Part of him longs to have this relationship back. Another part of him wishes to make his brother pay for what he did to him and is angry to have to bring back Tyrion into his life. 

He hopes his little brother would help him, or it would all be for nothing.

***  
Night falls. 

His men gathers around campfires and proceeds to distract themselves from the complex diplomatic quest they would have to complete and the fact they were away from home. Perfect, Jaime thinks. It would be easier for Tyrion to sneak into the camp if the men were busy and half drunk. 

At one point Jaimes pushed the guards in front of his tent toward the party, grunting with irritation to them they were useless tonight and that he needed quiet rest if they were to win this war, which he couldn't get because their chatter and sounds they made were incredibly loud. The guards didn't have the heart and bravery to argue about the matter with their commander.

Jaime sits down at his desk and rubs his temple for the hundredth times to attempt to calm down a headache that refused to disappear. Maybe he would return to this other world tonight? It had been a while, and Jaime couldn't retrace the pattern of this strange illness. No, he realizes, the only times he had traveled to the other world during the night, he had been in his bedchamber. Tonight, he is sleeping in his tent, in a field far away from Kingslanding.

The activity on the camp was starting to quiet down a bit when Jaime finally hears someone coming closer to the tent. He puts down the letter he was attempting to read and wait, not wanting to give Tyrion the power to startle him. 

He hears a soft rustle coming from the entryway of the tent and, finally, someone gets in.

But it isn't Tyrion.

His heart skips a beat.  
He gets up, staring, longing.

"Brienne, what are you doing here?" he says in a startled whisper, surprised but relieved at once. His voice is quiet, a breeze blowing in the night, destined only to her. She is here, standing steps before him, her shape half hidden by the moving shadows of the candle. It reflects beautifully in her blue eyes, giving them an ethereal glimmer. The last time he saw her, they were in Riverrun, fighting on opposite sides on the war. And now, she is here, in his tent, in the middle of the night. No, Jaime thinks, he has to keep it together in front of his Wench. He can't afford to let her make him a fool now. "I'm sorry to ruin your plan, Wench, but if you were attempting to pass off as Tyrion here, it isn't working really well," he adds, choosing to stick to ways of communicating he knows.

Brienne blinks, but after a few seconds, he could bet he sees her rolling her eyes in the half-light, catching up with his jape. "There is no such plan, Ser Jaime," she says, insisting on his formal title as if she didn't have the same thoughts as him upon seeing him again. Jaime doesn't attempt to contain the smirk threatening to curb his lips. No matter how much time had passed since the last time they saw each other, it looks like Brienne still is Brienne. An indeed comforting thought in this troubling time. Gods, he missed her.  
The realization of how true this is hits him as suddenly and hard then as if he had punched himself with his golden hand. Well, he should say that he missed her, his Wench, and not another version of herself from another world could replace having her in front of him. Now, he couldn't help but stare at her lips. The memory of the other Brienne in his bed, kissing him, still fresh in his head and haunting him. And it doesn't help him much. For the second time in a matter of minutes, Jaime has to shake himself not to appear such a fool. 

Brienne probably realizes he is too busy being lost in his thoughts to break the silence and decides to give more unnecessary explanations about his brother's whereabouts. "I can assure you, ser, that I only accompanied Lord Tyrion in this journey. He is indeed not far behind me and will join us soon." She squints, then steps forward a bit more as if to see him better. "I simply need to speak with you of urgent matters before," she adds. 

"What kind of urgent matters?" he asks, frowning. "I didn't break my vow to the Starks and I succeeded at taking Riverrun without shedding blood." Jaime gets up, curious about why Brienne is here and he takes a few steps toward her. He could clearly see her face now, though it is still partially filled with shadows. Her eyes widen as if she were slightly panicking at the idea of him breaking the safe distance she had tried to put between them. Good, he thinks, he could still get reactions out of her. Her face, however, appears as grave and filled with quiet fierceness it had always been, maybe even more. 

"I can assure you I am happy you did. It is more important than our vows to the Stark or even loyalty to our houses, however. It is a matter of life and death, and the survival of the living." 

This time, Jaime is definitely curious to hear more. What is she even talking about? "What is it?" he asks, his voice soft, but with a hint of impatience.

"I am sure you heard the stories from the past, ser, the ones about a war against the dead and the Night King? I am sorry to tell you they are all true, and that history is about to repeat itself."

Jaime's frown deepens. "I didn't think of you as naive enough to believe these stories, Brienne." But at the same time, Jaime feels doubts seeping through his mind. He trusts Brienne's judgment, he always has. If she comes to him with such an information, it means she really believes it true. It means it's reliable. 

However, the Night King has been a legend adults tell children to scare them for centuries. He had never heard reliable whispers about people actually seeing him. If he exists, why would he come out of his cave in the North now? Why not fifty, ten, five years ago? Jaime didn't understand.

Brienne looks at him as if the flames of determination in her eyes now could burn him alive. "I can assure you they are not stories, ser. Brave men from the Night's Watch fought him and his soldiers. They are coming to Westeros as we speak."

"What do you want me to do, Brienne? They are already dead. You can't exactly kill people that aren't breathing or bleeding," he asks, sarcastic but soft, and he fights the headache that had started throbbing in his head yet again. The world starts swirling around him, and Brienne becomes a blurry shape half hiding in the shadows. Fuck, he thinks, not again. He blinks. 

"We still have a chance against them, ser. We need all the men we can gather to fight. You need to convince your sister to hold a meeting with the Starks and Targaryens. They will show her a proof of everything I spoke to you. It is the right thing to do, ser."

The idea Jaime could actually get his sister to do anything appears so funny to him he almost laughs to Brienne's face. "You are either very naive, a fool or have a twisted sense of humor if you think I have any power over my sister's decisions."

"Rumors say you are one of her closest advisers, that she comes to you for political advice. I truly believe you can convince her easy enough."

Jaime takes a step forward. He is close enough to lightly feel her breath on his skin. Panick fills her eyes again but she doesn't step back. "Who told you that, Brienne? Why are you the one to come to me with such a mission? It seems to me you have a true talent to come to me with complicated political quests and an excellent timing to do so, Wench," he adds, slightly mocking.

Something feels off, he thinks, but he couldn't figure out what it is. His brain is burning and keeps him from thinking clearly. Brienne comes to him to ask him to convince his sister to meet the enemy. She asks him to betray his sister. Tyrion is nowhere to be seen. Only Brienne is in front of him, watching him with her astonishing blue eyes as if the eyes by themselves could convince him (they could). 

Tyrion told him he would be here, but Brienne is. He wonders if her lips taste the same than the other Brienne's if she would feel the same in his bed. What would she think of the other Brienne's life? He catches the smile about to appear on his lips before it could. 

But he wrote to Tyrion to meet and get advice and Brienne showed up instead, convincing him the dead is about to invade Westeros. He heard a word about Tyrion being the Mad king's daughter hand at Dragonstone. Brienne is protecting the Stark girls at Winterfell.

Wait, why would they come to him together then?

His non-sense brain puts all the fact together before he could even understand the logic behind it. His brain pushes the solution to him and it makes his breath stutters. The truth cuts so deeply he can only whisper it to her, the need to be wrong aching. "My brother put you up to this," he finally says, breaking the silence with his soft voice filled with anger. "He used the fact I was reaching up to him to meet his political goals for the fucking Mad King's daughter and he used my trust in you, isn't it?"

Brienne's chin wobbles and despite the determination burning in her eyes, Jaime could see she wishes to disappear. "No," she starts again, slowly, choosing her words carefully at first, but then with passion in her voice he expects from her. "It has nothing to do with one house's political goals. I choose to come to you because I believe that it is what is right for the realm. I believe you are the right person to help us save everyone."

"No one comes to the _Kingslayer_ to save the realm, Brienne," he says, sarcastic and desperate, trying to hate her for this betrayal but pathetically failing to do so. His brain is lost in a white opaque fog, but Jaime can't tell if it's because he is now so close to her or because of this dumb illness. 

"It is odd to say so when you are the only person capable of convincing our sister these days," another voice says. Jaime startles, and his eyes immediately start scanning the tent, searching where this familiar voice had come from. 

His brother stands at the entry of the tent, looking almost the same than the day he had helped him escape jail, years ago. Except for a thick beard. 

"Jaime, you have to believe us. Everything my lady said is true. If you are able to convince Cersei to meet us, we will show you a proof," Tyrion adds.

Jaime clenches his jaw and he looks at his brother in the eyes. He was a fool to think his brother would be the same than the other Tyrion, that he would help him. And Brienne-  
Dizziness floods him, weights him in a way so he can barely breathe. Jaime tries to walk and stumbles, but big arms catch him before he reaches the ground. Brienne's, he thinks. She calls his name, but he only hears it from far away. 

"My Lady", Jaime hears through the fog in his brain, "We have to leave now."

"No. We can't leave him here in this state, Tyrion."

"I'm sorry, my lady, but we have to or we have going to get caught by Lannister soldiers."

As Jaime slips out of consciousness, he feels the warmth from Brienne's arms leave, and he misses it a second later.


End file.
